


What They Need

by gundamoocow



Series: Servicing the Triumvirate [2]
Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Cunnilingus, Force Choking, Holochess, Inappropriate Use of the Force, Kissing, Mildly Dubious Consent, Multi, Oral Sex, Other, Reader-Insert, Sex, Unresolved Sexual Tension, reader can be any gender
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-12
Updated: 2016-03-12
Packaged: 2018-05-26 06:17:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6227125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gundamoocow/pseuds/gundamoocow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trying to please several people at once is difficult at the best of times, but you try hard.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What They Need

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't originally intend for this to be a series, but there seems to be some demand for a continuation, so here it is!

You kiss her everywhere. First her lips, soft and full. Then a trail down her chin and neck. She's ticklish there, and the act is far more distracting than erotic to her, but you adore the way it makes her squirm beneath you. Your hands caress her voluminous breasts, thumbs tracing across her nipples. You gently push her breasts together and bury your face between them, nuzzling and kissing, letting your self-control waiver as your mouth claims more and more of her soft skin. She squeals as you take a nipple into her mouth, sucking sharply at first, and then sloppily, like an inexperienced teenager going under a girl's top for the first time.

Right now, you don't care about finesse. _Your_ Phasma is going to be away on a mission many cycles long, and you are going to _have_ her for yourself before she becomes Captain Phasma once again.

You work your way down until your head is between her legs and your hands are groping and stroking and squeezing anywhere and everywhere while you lap at her slit. She tastes tangy and is so, so wet that her juices are dribbling down your chin and soaking into the mattress. You plunge your tongue into her and she moans loudly, a gorgeously obscene sound that no one but you has ever heard. You drive your tongue in and out of her, withdrawing only to lightly tease her swollen clit.

She's so close.

If you time this right, you could bring her several successive orgasms. For now, you concentrate on the first. You know it's coming because her powerful thighs clamp down on your head so hard that it makes you worry a little for your skull. She trembles, her muscles tensing beneath your hands, and several gentle licks to her engorged nub later, she's screaming your name.

 _Good_ , you think. She'll remember this while she's away, and she'll be desperate for it again by the time she gets back.

More than anything, you hope she will miss you.

***

You spend two lonely nights in your own bed. Someone of your status isn't expected to always have a full schedule, so you spend your free time as you wish.

The General requests you at short notice, which is unusual, but not unheard of. You hurriedly prepare, not that it has ever been necessary, given the General's preferences, and make your way to his quarters.

When you report to him, he's sitting at his desk with a portable holochess set activated on his desk. He eyes you curiously and asks, "Have you played before?"

"Yes, sir," you reply. You're pretty good, too, if the mounds of contraband you won from your fellow First Order members are anything to go by.

"Excellent," he says, smiling. "Let's have a game."

This is different.

Unexpected.

Without a doubt, you are being tested.

You know the General well enough to know that he expects you to give it your all, so you do.

He doesn't completely crush you, but it's close. Never before have you seen your defeat come from so many moves ahead and been so helpless to prevent it. You fight hard to the last piece, planning many contingency moves in the event that he makes a careless error, but the General's execution is impeccable.

"Thank you," he says. "I enjoyed that."

He isn't gloating; his expression is one of genuine satisfaction.

"I apologise for not being a more worthy opponent," you say, lowering your eyes. "I'm sure your fellow strategists provide far more interesting games."

You've only ever played stormtroopers and low-ranking officers. Outside of your liaisons with the Triumvirate, you have little interaction with anyone of significant rank.

The General utters a single dry laugh. "You're not bad! I employed a number of high-level manoeuvres, and you countered them admirably. A few hours with a strategy book, and I think we could have a game on much more even terms."

You forget yourself for a moment and gawk at the General. "There are books on this?"

The moment the question leaves your mouth, you regret it, cursing yourself for revealing your ignorance. The General doesn't seem perturbed by your blunder, and beckons you over to his side of the desk. This is far outside of your normal routine, so you watch him carefully for guidance. He pulls you into his lap. You sit sideways and look him in the eye, while he slips one hand around your waist and rests the other on your thigh.

He pulls you even closer to him, and speaks softly in your ear. "You could enter the league. I could coach you."

Your heart pounds a little. Even though the General is only talking about holochess, it's as though he is seducing you. It feels silly, but you kind of like it. You want to tell him _yes_ , even though holochess doesn't mean a great deal to you, because the thing you love most with him is when he looks _pleased_ with you. Instead of responding, your tongue is caught in your mouth, and all you end up doing is leaning into his touch.

"I don't have much spare time," he says, his breath hot on your ear, "but I can set up practice matches for you with more decent opponents than the ones you presently play."

You freeze. _He knows. He asked, even though he knows_. Undoubtedly, he also knows you play to gamble.

"Don't be afraid," he chuckles. "I wasn't always a general. I know what goes on."

"Sir..." You start, but nothing else follows.

"You're not in trouble. You have my word."

You gather your wits and give the General the proper answer he deserves. "I would be honoured to have you coach me for the league, General Hux."

"Good."

He smiles, gently grabs your chin with his gloved hand, and guides you towards him for a chaste kiss. It's firm and deliberate -- exactly what you expect the General's kisses to be like.

He dismisses you after that, saying he has no time left for anything more, but would book you for an entire night at the next opportunity.

You walk back to your room with a flutter in your heart and a bounce in your step.

***

Lord Ren summons you the following evening. You wonder if this new development with the General will do anything to quell his restlessness. The General is planning to bed you properly. Only an idiot would be unable to see that.

You stand confidently before Lord Ren as he delves into your mind. You place last night's memories within easy reach and let him get on with it. He runs through the holochess game, pausing at the details in the General's facial expressions you didn't even notice you caught. It was clear as day, and you certainly _should have_ picked up on it long ago; the General is undeniably fond of you.

Lord Ren's breathing grows erratic as he sifts through your thoughts. He's not wearing is mask, and you can easily see him getting upset.

"You just played _holochess?!_ " On second thoughts, Lord Ren wasn't upset; he was _furious_.

Your mind feels like laundry tossed around in a washing machine as Lord Ren ransacks it until he gets to the kiss. Then he screams, months of pent-up rage and frustration being let loose in an animalistic howl. This is frightening, even for Lord Ren, and you're not sure what to do. You think about directly telling him about your forthcoming night with the General, but before you can, Lord Ren's invisible hold grasps you by the throat and throws you against the wall.

You panic, arms scrambling for something, _anything_ , to free you from the constriction and let you breathe again. As quickly as the hold comes, it disappears. You collapse onto the floor, coughing and gasping for precious air. Before you can fully catch your breath, you hear Lord Ren's lightsaber activate.

This is it.

You're done for.

Lord Ren is going to kill you out of jealous rage over the General's affections.

A split second later, Lord Ren is slicing up every piece of furniture in the room. For all you know, he's got tears streaming down his face like when he fucks you, but you don't stick around to find out. As fast as your shaking legs will take you, you get to your feet and _run_ , mashing the keypad to Lord Ren's main door until it opens, and then bolt down the corridor.

You duck into the first refresher you see and try to pull yourself together. You splash your face with cold water and then look at yourself in the mirror. Your throat has red marks on it. By tomorrow, they will be bruises.

You eventually get your breathing under control and build up the guts to open the door, fearful that Lord Ren is waiting just outside to finish you off. He's not there, though, and you walk back to your room uneventfully. You think about going to see the General, but decide against it; he has far more pressing things to worry about.

Phasma is away, and the General is too important to be troubled.

You are alone.

Suddenly, you remember that you have Phasma's door code. With the rules firmly off your radar, you go to her quarters and crawl into her bed without bothering to change into sleeping clothes. You don't have the energy for that.

The bed smells like her. It's a small comfort, in light of things, but it's better than nothing.

***

You wake up to a notification from Lord Ren, requesting to see you in a few hours time. Instantly, you feel sick. You can't bear to see him again so soon.

There is only one thing for it. You go to your supervisor, well aware that you probably look like hell. With any luck, it might even work in your favour.

"Ma'am," you say, immediately noticing the hoarseness in your voice. "Can you please send someone else to Lord Ren? I-- I can't do it anymore."

Your supervisor frowns without looking up from her datapad. "I'm afraid that he's rejected everyone else we've sent to him after seeing them only once. He rates you very highly, you know."

"Ma'am." You aim for sounding stern, but your voice quivers without your consent. Finally, she looks up. You point to your throat. "I think I've worn out my welcome."

Her eyes widen in concern, and then soften into pity. "Oh," she says quietly. After a long pause, she finally says, "I can grant your request, but--"

Relief washes over you. Whatever penance you have to pay, you'll do. Cleaning duty, extra working hours, ban from recreational activities--

"I would have to send you to reconditioning," she says solemnly. "I'm so sorry. Those are the rules."

The word sends a chill through your bones, and you think you're going to be sick again.

_No._

Anything but reconditioning.

They'll find out about Phasma, and that would be the end of that. You would be assigned to a different ship, and you would never see her again.

Ever.

"I'll see Lord Ren," you whisper. By the time you say his name, you can barely control your shaking.

The supervisor offers a sympathetic smile.

Like that will save your skin.

***

You don't have the heart to prepare yourself like you normally do. It feels moot anyway, given the circumstances. Perhaps Lord Ren would even enjoy it -- hurting you -- and decide to spare your life after getting his anger towards you out of his system.

You wait until the absolute last possible moment to leave for Lord Ren's quarters. Every step forward fills you with dread until you're in front of his door. You are about to push the button and alert him to your presence, but the door opens before you have a chance, and you nearly jump out of your skin.

Your legs feel like jelly, and it takes everything in your power to keep yourself upright as you cross the threshold into Lord Ren's front room. The wrecked furniture is gone, replaced as if nothing had happened. He's sitting in a chair with his mask on, seemingly deep in thought, not even acknowledging you. He could be asleep, for all you know. The only evidence against that is that he just opened the door.

"I sensed your fear from the other end of the ship," he says finally.

And yet he insists on you attending to him.

"You don't have to, today."

 _Then can I go?_ You're struggling with forming words and he's in your mind anyway.

"No. I need something else from you."

Any self-control you had gained up to now disappears from under your feet, and you start to shake again. Visions of the crackling red saber slicing effortlessly through you play in your mind. He'll snap again, and he'll kill you.

"I won't do that," he says. _Please don't be so scared of me. I can't take it._

Tears trickle down your face at this impossible ask.

_Please. You're the only one who understands._

There is no way you can follow this order in the state you are in. Story over. You'll be sent to reconditioning, and you'll never see Phasma again or feel her arms wrapped around you or kiss her sweet, soft lips ever again.

Lord Ren sits up suddenly, startled, and you flinch. In a swift motion, he removes his mask.

"You love her," he states as if this is somehow news. _How did you hide that from me?_

 _I didn't_ , you think. _You just never cared to look._

You gather the courage to look him in the eye, hoping to assess exactly how much trouble you are in. What you see surprises you. His eyes are as wet as yours, and red. For a moment, you feel more sorry for him than afraid. You capitalise on the feeling and use it to help bite back your fear.

You step toward Lord Ren, and he embraces you instantly. It's not for your benefit. His arms wrap around you and he buries his face in your belly and cries. He is like a child right now, and the very idea of fearing him suddenly seems absurd.

 _He hates me_ , Lord Ren thinks at you. _I can sense it every day._

 _He takes a long time to warm up to people._ You know that best.

_Phasma is going to hate me now too._

You sigh. No one can hope to find happiness with such a defeatist attitude.

Most of your earlier fear has abated as you resume your usual role of comforting Lord Ren, stroking his hair while tears pour from his eyes.

"Do you want to try something different today?" You make the offer unsure if you'll regret it.

"What?" Lord Ren's reply is muffled by your stomach.

"Take me to bed like normal," you say, "but listen to my thoughts of you."

"I already know how you feel about me."

You're not sure how to explain yourself. Just once, you want Lord Ren to fuck you while thinking about _you_. Even though you're supposed to be the one servicing him, part of you thinks it's only fair, considering what he put you through yesterday. You're not some low-level grunt who doesn't deserve the time of day, and you certainly command enough respect not to get thrown around like a ragdoll. And anyway, this isn't just for you; Lord Ren needs more confidence, and a great way to get that is to fuck someone who enjoys fucking you back.

Lord Ren pulls away from you and offers the weakest of smiles. "There you are," he says, as if you had disappeared in a game of hide and seek. "Fine. Let's try this idea of yours."

He stands up and grabs you by the wrist, wasting no time to get you to his bedroom. He's already in your mind, sensing your anticipation as he rips off your clothes with no regard for their integrity nor your modesty. His strength arouses you, and he can feel that as he throws you down.

He slicks himself up and you tense slightly before forcing yourself to relax. You're about to find out how your most delicate reaches are going to react to the lack of preparation.

_Preparation?_

_You're big_ , you think. Normally that necessitates foreplay.

He immediately flips you over and plunges his head between your legs. Lord Ren knows you like it when the General does this to you, and you can tell he's doing his best to emulate it. What Lord Ren lacks in experience, he makes up with direct feedback. If he's not careful, you'll come before he even enters you. You wonder, absently, what it would be like to have both of them together. Would they compete over you, like they apparently compete within their joint command?

Lord Ren groans and immediately climbs on top of you and enters you with one stroke. You've never done it facing each other before. You're still not really ready for it, but that quickly becomes irrelevant as he starts to pound into you for all he's worth. He fills you more thoroughly than anyone else ever has. You can feel him taking what he wants, and you fucking love it.

He is deep in your mind now, ruffling through every single desire you've had for him that you suppressed in favour of putting his needs first.

"You want me," he grunts into your ear in between bites to the flesh of your shoulder. You appreciate that he's not biting your neck. "You'd want this even if you didn't have to do it."

You moan in ascent.

He grabs your hips and starts going for the home stretch. You dare to reach up and run your fingers through his hair before gripping hard and pulling him towards you. His mouth crashes into yours. You wince, then slip your tongue between his lips. His eyes widen and he launches into practically mauling your mouth with his.

He grunts and starts to gasp for air, and then he comes, slamming into you so hard that you're going to feel it for days.

You still haven't finished, and you start to worry that after everything, he'll leave you hanging, but he doesn't. He continues to fuck you past his own climax, gentler now, with his face buried in the crook of your neck.

"You'd love to be in between us," he murmurs. "Between me and Hux. Both of us inside you."

The image of your three writhing bodies, raw and visceral, practically rips your orgasm from you. You come with your arms and legs wrapped tightly around Lord Ren, and he slowly fucks you through it all.

He stays inside you as you both gradually come down.

"You'll talk to him for me," he says, looking into your eyes as he finally withdraws.

You nod. You're not sure what you're going to say, but you'll figure it out. All you can really do is plant a suggestion. Anything else is up to the General and Lord Ren.

"That'll do," Lord Ren says.

After laying beside each other, both of you spent, you try to gauge what Lord Ren would like to do next. Normally, you try to be discreet, but Lord Ren hasn't yet bothered to leave your mind.

"Stay here tonight," he says. "She's away, so you can stay."

With that, he rolls onto his side, drapes an arm over you, and promptly falls asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> There will have at least one more work in the series to attempt to resolve things XD
> 
> This series is a bit of an experiment for me, so please let me know what you think!
> 
> Also, I wrote this on a long-haul flight surrounded by elderly Chinese people who don't speak English. I don't really know if that's a high point or a low point in my fanfic writing experience.
> 
> Follow me on [tumblr](https://agent-nemesis.tumblr.com/)!


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